In My Heart
by dv-dt
Summary: Severus Snape's account of life after death. postHBP. rated T for adult themes, language, and sexual nature.
1. Chapter 1

disclaimer: these characters aren't mine.

note: this fic was inspired by Moby's "In My Heart." …and Severus Snape.

**In My Heart**

_**chapter one**_

Dumbledore… no, his body, for it was lifeless, raised in the air, contorted like some sick marionette. Thus ends an era.

Thus began my life as the damned, more so by myself than any eternal figure in the sky. I knew long before I spoke those words that I was essentially fucked over for the rest of my life. I knew how it would end, not my life - his, when I woke up with a hangover and the burning fire within me of the Unbreakable Vow. I knew in my heart, but I didn't stop it.

I don't suppose many Death Eaters realize what working for the Dark Lord means. He doesn't say it outright; give me your soul, because you love me. In this way, he is god and not the devil, for he takes and never gives. He makes promises of rebirth, of miracles, of salvation, but those are distant. But he can give me power, Lucius Malfoy says. Protection, Peter Pettigrew says. Of all of them, only Bellatrix Lestrange understands. There is nothing, no end; there is only him.

Dumbledore didn't offer me salvation, only safe haven. I was finished with sacrificing myself for the Dark Lord's sake, but there is no leaving. When Dumbledore asked me to return as a spy, I didn't much mind having to act under the Dark Lord, but I detested the thought of giving myself to him completely. But my excuse allowed me the best of both worlds. I didn't have to openly support him or do anything I didn't want to really, because I had to keep up appearances. Rather convenient, I'd say.

I hated to think of it this way, but now I had an even better excuse. Now I simply had to stay underground, conduct scholarly research. Of course, Dumbledore had been more to me than any other: a friend, a teacher, a supporter. But I hated myself for his death, not for what I did to the Order, for I really had no emotional investment in them. God, for all I cared, they could go to hell. I had no desire to help them; I never had in the first place. But Dumbledore asked, so I did.

Now the games were over. No longer a tool, I could live my own life. I had always owed Dumbledore, that was the trade, the bargain. Now I stood alone. In my heart, I knew things would never be alright, but what could I do about it? I rationalized; life is better than death. This is all I have, as there is nothing more. I hold on so tightly that my hands are rubbed raw and my knuckles seem white

I resigned myself to survival under the Dark Lord. I'll do what I must, but not because I love him. But where do I find happiness? Only in the small things. Often never.

This is the life of a non-believer.


	2. Chapter 2

note: I'm really enjoying writing this fic, which is why I'm continuing it. looks like Severus Snape's fun and happy life. I know my writing can be a little ...heady at times, but please bear with me. it's my first fic.

disclaimer: dear JKR's lawyers. I'm not even 18; do you really want to sue me?

**In My Heart**

_**chapter two**_

The first night was the worst. I can't remember what happened, but the images plague my mind at night. A vision of hell: the expansive lake shimmering with the green of the Dark Mark, the fire reflecting in Harry Potter's eyes, the Forbidden Forest swallowing us whole. I saw Draco standing motionless in the forest. I simply wanted to scream at him, but the anguish of the Unbreakable Vow still churned within me.

"Foolish boy, hold on to my arm." The familiar feeling of Apparition comforted me; I wished I could Apparate to the edge of the universe, an endless journey. But the ground came crashing upwards far too soon. I stumbled to all fours, not wanting to acknowledge my surroundings.

A woman shrieked nearby. I looked up to discern several figures running towards us in the moonlight. They took hardly a few moments to cross the expansive lawn of the Malfoy Manor. As they stood together, I recognized that these three women must be related. In this surreal moment, I pondered the Death Eater clan - truly a caring and family-oriented bunch.

"Draco, thank God you're alright," Narcissa wept, as she clutched Draco in her arms. Draco mumbled something in response, trying to push her away from him.

"Well?" Bellatrix's sharp voice triggered the pounding in my head but also caught my attention. "Was it ..a success?" she asked tentatively. A wave of nausea accompanied the headache, although I didn't know whether it was because of what I had just done or because she was around, emanating the stench of cold-blooded cruelty.

"Obviously," drawled the youngest of the three. I recognized her as a student from around five years ago, Vega. "If it hadn't had worked, neither of them would be here." I admired the technical precision of her mind, carefully gathering her observations and formulating a conclusion void of emotional attachment. Cold precision marks everything about her, down to her smile. I remember her as a student, meticulous and charming, yet not overly passionate. Someone like her.. now that's where my theory on Death Eaters goes awry.

Regardless of Vega's remark, the three women still stared at Draco and me expectantly, waiting for juicy details. The words weighed down my very soul: "Dumbledore's dead."

"And who did it?" Narcissa asked, avoiding eye contact with me.

Draco had his face in his palms, so I figured the silence would speak for itself.

"Always meddling, aren't you, you bastard," Bellatrix snarled, menacingly waving her finger near my nose. "I told Draco he could do it himself, but you certainly think you're the bloody hero here. Why yes, you've got every damn right to do it yourself."

"That certainly isn't the case," I replied, as calmly as possible. My voice cracked in spite of myself. "If - "

"Professor, mother," Vega interrupted, nodding at us both, "I hardly think we can afford time for such petty arguments." But the blood pounding in my ears drowned out whatever bullshit she had continued with. She was right, this was a petty argument in the face of such calamity. Their nonchalant reaction to this tumultuous event made me sick. They hardly understood the significance for either side. They will not show emotion until their master tells them to. They say they have power and influence, but they are merely sheep in lion's clothing, pawns of their master.

I could not believe it. Even Narcissa, who had shown vestiges of a heart, seemed not to notice. Dumbledore had continually shown her the utmost respect, while she angrily defied him within his own halls. Dumbledore had trusted her, allowed her son to attend his school. Dumbledore trusted everyone, myself included; it was simply his nature.

In the end, it was I who uttered the curse, I who betrayed him most cruelly. Who am I to hypothesize about love? 


End file.
